Lifeline
by Trn736
Summary: She was in a hurry – late for work. She was on the phone with her husband telling him to pick the children up from school… She didn't see the stop sign or the curb or the two young boys riding their bikes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All places and characters referenced to the television show _**South Park **_are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Sheila promptly answered the door, "Hello, Stanley."

"Hi Mrs. Broflovski, is Kyle around?"

"Yes, he's upstairs. Come on in."

"Kyle!" She yelled, "Stanley's here and he wants to talk to you!"

Kyle hurried down the stairs.

"Hey, Stan!" He greeted cheerfully.

"Hey!"

"What's up?" Kyle beckoned him to the couch.

"I was wondering if maybe you would come on a bike ride with me…? I figured I'd come ask you since you didn't want to go alone last time."

Kyle chuckled lightly before becoming serious, "You do remember what happened last time though, right? Your asthma…"

Stan hushed him, "It'll be okay. We'll stay in town this time. Please…?"

"As long as I don't have to wear knee and elbow pads," Kyle whispered.

Both boys laughed.

"Hey, mom?" Kyle entered the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to go ride my bike with Stan for a while, okay?"

"Alright, bubeleh. Just make sure you two wear your helmets."

Both Stan and Kyle scowled.

"Alright…"

"Be back soon!" They heard her call as Kyle closed his front door.

It was a nice early winter day in South Park, Colorado. Snow was on the ground and it was not warm by any stretch of the imagination but that being said, the snow was pretty well cleared off of the streets and sidewalks.

"Where are we riding to?" Kyle questioned as he fastened his helmet; Stan did the same.

"I don't know… How about around the park?"

"Sounds good."

The duo hopped on their bikes and departed.

A little under an hour later the two had rode through the park and halfway around the town talking, laughing, enjoying the weather, and having a good time.

They approached the last neighborhood they decided to ride through before heading back.

"See?" Stan huffed tiredly.

"See what?"

"I told you everything would be okay; no asthma attack this time."

"I guess so…," Kyle admitted. "But we still have about a eight blocks to go."

"Race you?" Stan immediately challenged.

"You're on!"

* * *

_She was in a hurry – late for work. She was on the phone with her husband telling him to pick the children up from school… She didn't see the stop sign or the curb or the two young boys riding their bikes._

As the speeding, two-ton SUV hit the curb it jarred violently. The woman slammed on the brakes as she desperately swerved to avoid the kids. The boy on the far side got lucky, falling into a nearby yard… The one closer to the street took the full impact of the vehicle.

His bicycle crumpled instantaneously under the extreme force of the impact. The boy was hurled into the air briefly before crashing back down onto the hood of the vehicle – his head cracking the windshield. As the vehicle came to a sudden stop he was thrown violently onto the rock-hard concrete with a sickening thud before tumbling and skidding to a stop multiple meters down the road.

Stunned, Kyle scrambled to his feet and ran to the side of his super best friend.

As he approached the shallowly breathing figure in the middle of the street, Kyle could barely hold it together.

Stan was a bloody, bruised, mangled mess. It would be a miracle if he survived.

"Stan…?" He kneeled on the cold ground shaking, unsure if he should touch him or not.

The boy was completely still… No response.

Tears stung at his eyes as he clenched his fists in dismay turning back to the rouge vehicle.

The driver had stepped out; she was hysterical.

"What are you doing?!" Kyle screamed, "Call 911!"

The woman nodded and frantically searched for her cell phone.

9-1-1.


	2. Chapter 2

When emergency vehicles neared, Kyle knew he would be in the way.

He regretfully left the boy's side and wandered to the curb to sit down.

As a crowd of medics clustered around Stan, Kyle felt sick.

He turned his head and threw up into the gutter.

Overwhelmed with emotion, the young boy began to cry.

The medics worked frantically to stabilize him before transferring him to a stretcher and loading him into an ambulance that raced off toward the hospital.

A police officer walked over the boy crying on the curb.

"Hey, champ; are you hurt at all?"

Kyle shook his head.

The man sat down next to him and placed a comforting hand on his back.

"They're going to do everything they can to make sure your friend gets better," he reassured.

This did not make Kyle feel any better.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Kyle," he hiccupped.

"What's your last name, Kyle?"

"Broflovski."

"And what's your friend's name, Kyle?"

"He's not just my friend!" Kyle snapped, "He's my super best friend!" He cried harder, "His n-name is S-Stan… Stan Marsh… He's – He's 10 years old and he has asthma…"

The man nodded at a fellow officer nearby to find and notify Stan's parents.

"Can you tell me what happened, Kyle?" He asked after the boy had calmed down a little bit.

"I'm not sure…," Kyle sniffled. "We were just riding our bikes on this side of the street and _that _– he pointed angrily at the SUV – car just came up from behind us out of nowhere… I was on the half of the sidewalk closer to the houses… I just got caught off guard and fell into the yard… Stan was on the half closest to the street…," he wiped his eyes.

"Thanks, Kyle. You've been a big help. We'll call your parents and have them come down here to pick you up, okay?"

Kyle nodded as the officer stood up.

"She's going to get in trouble for this, right?" Kyle gritted his teeth as he stared in the direction of the driver, his gaze filled with hatred.

"Yeah, it sounds like she will be getting in a lot of trouble."

"Good," Kyle responded spitefully.

The rest of that day was a blur. He remembered his parents pulling up to the accident scene and the shower of hugs and kisses that ensued. He remembered begging to go to the hospital to see Stan. He remembered "Everything will be okay…" He remembered numbly lying on his bed crying into his pillow, thoughts of all the good times the friends had together in his head.

* * *

A telephone ringing snapped Kyle out of his trance.

He was in his pajamas and it was dark.

He rolled over to look at the clock on his nightstand: _2:28AM._

His heart dropped.

Kyle quietly walked down the stairs and stood in the entryway to the kitchen listening to his mom talk.

He could see her face pale, "Alright… We'll be there soon, I don't think Kyle's sleeping anyway," she solemnly sat the phone down and turned around.

"Who was that?" Kyle beseeched his mom.

"It was Sharon…," she cleared her throat, "She thinks you might want to go see Stan for a little while…"

"Is he awake?!" Kyle's voice was filled with excitement.

"No, bubeleh… Sharon – She just thinks you might want to go see Stan for a little while…," she reiterated, clearly upset.

"…Can we…?" Kyle looked at the ground, speaking quietly.

"Of course we can…," Sheila attempted to smile, "You grab your shoes and a coat and I'll start the car, okay?"

Kyle knew this was serious – very serious.

He slipped on a pair of shoes and pulled his jacket over his pajama top before heading out to the car.

The ride to the hospital was completely silent.

* * *

_Ten minutes earlier._

The emergency room doctor walked out of a room and approached the pair of distraught parents sitting in the waiting area.

"Mr. and Mrs. Marsh?"

They nodded.

"We've managed to stabilize your son, for the moment but the trauma he sustained in the accident was severe. We transferred him to the ICU; he's in critical condition and we have him heavily sedated. In addition to multiple lacerations and bruises Stan suffered a fractured left tibia as well as a fractured right radius. Head and neck trauma was also sustained in the accident though, as far as we can tell, the risk of paralysis is low. In addition, he fractured three of his right ribs which led to the puncturing on his right lung – we have him on a ventilator. More seriously the acute trauma led to some internal bleeding. We're not manned or equipped to perform the surgery required to alleviate this bleeding so we will be transferring Stan by air to the Children's Hospital in Denver… The helicopter should be here shortly… We're doing everything we can to make sure Stan pulls through but his chances are low… I'm sorry…"

* * *

Upon entering the hospital and meeting up with Stan's parents in front of the ICU room, hugs and tears followed.

The feeling of numbness returned to Kyle.

"They'll be flying him to the Children's Hospital in Denver pretty soon to do a surgery to deal with some internal bleeding," Randy spoke as he held his wife.

The group slowly entered Stan's room; they stopped just past the door.

The room was dimly light and had no windows.

The walls were dotted with various medical instruments, outlets, and many equipment docking ports.

There was a bright red crash cart in the corner of the room closest to the door.

The hospital bed was against the wall on the far side near the middle of the room.

The IV pump on the left side of his bed was adorned with three bags of liquid with tubes coursing to multiple thick needles covered by tape inserted in his scraped left arm.

Near to that a vital signs monitor stood beeping and flashing near-critical values of heart rate, oxygen saturation, respiration, and blood pressure derived from the finger clasp on his left hand and the blood pressure cuff on his right arm.

To the right of the bed there was a larger machine hooked to an oxygen port on the wall. An accordion-like inflation manifold steadily rose and fell along with the young boy's chest. Two thick tubes ran from this machine to the convergence point of the endotracheal tube inserted in his mouth.

His upper head was wrapped in gauze; fresh blood was beginning to soak through.

His neck was braced.

His right forearm, left lower leg, and chest were all heavily bandaged.

Kyle could not believe this was actually happening.

Less than half a day ago they were both laughing and riding bikes talking about what games they were going to play tomorrow.

Kyle looked helplessly up at his mother.

She turned with the Randy and Sharon and escorted them out of the room.

For a moment Kyle just stood there, unsure of what to do.

He decided to approach his super best friend.

As he neared the boy Kyle could see his eyes were closed and his face was sickeningly pale.

"Stan…?" He whispered, praying for a response.

Nothing.

"Stan… I don't know if you can hear this but please…," more tears welled in his already bloodshot eyes, "Please don't die…," his voice was shaky. "If – If you die I'll have to deal with Cartman all the time by myself…," he forced out a quiet laugh, "You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" Tears fell from his cheeks.

"I love you, dude…," he placed his hand on top of Stan's, "You're more of a brother to me than Ike… Please…"

Sheila walked back into the room and grasped Kyle's hand, "We need to go, sweetie. They're here to take Stan to the other hospital."

As she led him through the door he looked back one last time at his super best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time morning rolled around, Kyle had almost no tears left to shed.

His bright-red eyes and the dark bags under them were reflective of the 30 plus hours he had gone without sleep and the emotional toll of the previous afternoon.

After getting back from the hospital around 3 AM, Kyle returned to his room and slunk to the ground with his back to the wall and his side to the dresser across from his bed parallel to a nightstand with a picture of the two friends on it.

The picture was from Kyle's tenth birthday party. Both boys had an arm over the other's shoulder. Kyle was holding up a new video game Stan had saved up to buy him. They were smiling ear-to-ear in anticipation of the weekend-long sleepover gaming session that was to ensue.

He stared at that picture for the rest of the night and he prayed.

He prayed to every god he could think of for Stan to be alright, for the friends to be able to spend time together again.

He prayed over and over again.

He swore to every divine entity in existence that he would never ask for another thing so long as Stan would be alright.

He still had his jacket and shoes on when Sheila came to wake him up for school around 7:30.

"School…?" Kyle asked his mother, still staring across the room at the picture.

She surveyed her exhausted, dismayed son and took a seat on the bed across from him.

"I think everyone would understand if you didn't go to school today, bubbie. I'll give them a call."

Kyle gave a slight nod.

A few times his mother came in with food, but Kyle was not hungry.

He sat in his pajamas for most of the day and just wanted to be left alone.

He dozed off early in the afternoon only to be awaken by the sudden ringing of a telephone once again.

The pit in his stomach returned; fearing bad news, Kyle just stayed in his room and hoped otherwise.

A few minutes later he heard a knock on his door.

"Ya…?" He invited his mom in, voice laced with fear.

"That was Sharon," she began, "Stan made it to Denver okay and the surgery went alright, they managed to stop the internal bleeding."

Kyle exhaled deeply with momentary relief.

"But...," Kyle's anxiety returned, "He's still in critical condition and might not make it… Stan still needs that machine to help him breathe – they're keeping him asleep to make him more comfortable."

"How long until he wakes up?"

"I'm not sure, honey, however long it takes him to get better."

"Can we go see him?"

"I think it's best if we just stay here for a while, Kyle," she said gently.

"But… I want to be there with him… I might be able to make him feel better… I'd hate to be alone after something like that."

Sheila smiled at her son, "He won't be alone, Kyle; his parents are there along with a bunch of doctors and nurses who are going to take good care of him."

"When can we go see him?"

"We'll see about sometime soon, okay?"

"…Alright…"

"Why don't you come downstairs for some dinner and then call it a night? You've been up for quite a while."

Kyle reluctantly agreed and did just that.


	4. Chapter 4

It took some convincing that Kyle sitting at home worrying about his friend was not doing him or Stan any favors but he eventually got the message.

Kyle returned to school the next day.

By then everyone knew what had happened and naturally they all went to Kyle in search of answers.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"What happened to the driver?"

"Is he going to be able to walk again?"

"How long is he going to be in the hospital?"

"Will he remember any of us?"

"I don't know!" Was Kyle's universal, upset response to the bombardment of questions.

* * *

_Late that morning_

"Alright, class," Mr. Garrison began, "I'm sure most of you know by now but your classmate Stanley Marsh was involved in an accident a few days ago… He was injured pretty bad and is currently in a hospital in Denver. This time before lunch was originally going to be study time, but I think it would be better used today for making a get well card for Stan," he sat out various art supplies on a table at the front of the room, "You can all work together making a card and then you can all sign it."

"Should we make Butters into a card again like we did for when Kyle was sick?" Kenny laughed.

"I don't know, fellas," Butters bumped his knuckles together, "I got some glitter in my eye last time and it hurt real bad… But if it would make Stan feel better, I guess it would be okay."

"I don't want to make a card for Stan," Cartman interjected, "I hope he doesn't get better, one less hippie in the world."

Kyle lunged toward the fat boy who was standing near the edge of the table, pinning him against the wall with his arm to Cartman's throat.

"You take that back right now or you're going to be the next one being flown to a hospital in Denver!"

"Okay! Okay!" Cartman coughed.

"That's enough, Kyle!" Garrison intervened.

Cartman fell to his knees as Kyle unpinned him from the wall.

"I hope he lives! I'll sign the stupid hippie's card," Cartman scrambled to his feet.

Kyle was shaking with anger, channeling every bit of self-control he possessed not to beat the crap out of the fat boy.

"Kyle, calm down," Kenny patted him on the back, "It's just Cartman; he's an insensitive idiot."

"I swear to god, Cartman; if Stan dies because of you saying that, I'll kill you," Kyle threatened.

With each passing day the odds of Stan surviving became slimmer and slimmer.

Kyle asked on nearly a daily basis if they could go and visit Stan, he had not seen him since the day the accident happened but the response he always got was something along the lines of work, school, and Denver being too far away.

* * *

_About two weeks later_

Kyle was getting ready for another day of school when the phone rang.

The pit in his stomach that he had become accustomed to over the past few weeks returned.

He sat down on his bed waiting for word; he felt that this was going to be terrible news.

A few minutes later, Sheila walked in.

"That was Sharon…"

"Yeah…?" Kyle was almost crying, fearing the worst.

She hugged her son, "Why are you crying, bubbie? Stanley's awake."

"Really?!" He was taken back.

"Really. Sharon said they took him off the ventilator earlier and he's awake now."

"Can we go see him?! Please?!"

Sheila laughed, "Yes we can go see him. I'll make arrangements and we'll leave soon."

Kyle had never gotten around for a day faster in his life.

Before they left, he grabbed the card the class had made and another small bag.

"Sharon also wanted us to know to be patient with Stanley when we get there," Sheila began as they were driving toward Denver, "The doctors said that between being asleep for almost two weeks and the injuries to the head he received, he might not remember everything right off the bat; but he most likely will eventually. Just give him time."

A new fear began to flutter about in Kyle's mind.

What if Stan did not remember him?

As they pulled into a parking space near the hospital later in the afternoon, Kyle was surprised at the size of the building; it dwarfed the one in South Park.

When they entered the building Kyle was almost confused, it looked nothing like a regular hospital.

It was really colorful. There were paintings of animals on the floor and on the walls. Pink, purple, blue, and yellow couches and chairs dotted the main floor of the multi-story atrium they had entered. A large glass elevator graced the middle of the floor.

They approached a nearby desk.

"Hello! How can I help you?" The receptionist greeted.

"We're looking for Stanley Marsh. Can you tell us what room he's in, please?" Sheila responded.

"Stanley Marsh…," she searched through her computer, "He's on the seventh floor, room 723."

"Thanks."

As the elevator stopped and the doors opened, a large colorful sign marked their position above a long hallway: _7__th__ Floor – Pediatric Intensive Care Unit_.

They did not have to walk very far to find the room they were looking for.

"723! Right here!" Kyle beckoned to his mother.

The name plate by the door read _Stanley Marsh_ in blue letters with footballs and basketballs dotted around the name.

Sheila gave a slight knock.

Sharon opened the door.

"I'm so glad you guys came down," she hugged both of them.

"Stanley! Look who's here!" She led them over to his bed.

He looked incredibly worn down.

Stan no longer had a thick tube down his throat connected to a large machine or a neck brace. His head was still bandaged along with a large portion of his chest. A finger clasp and blood pressure cuff were still tethered to a vital signs monitor along with two tubes into his left hand still connected to bags hanging from an IV pump. His injured arm and leg were covered in bright orange casts. A tube ran from another bag on the IV stand into his nose that was previously not present.

The table parallel to him was adorned with about 20 different balloons and many _Get Well_ cards along with various other gifts.

"Hey!" Kyle walked close to the bed, trying to control the overwhelming need he felt to squeeze Stan as hard as he could.

"Hey…," the injured boy replied weakly.

Kyle remember what his mom said, "Hey, Stan. I'm Kyle, do you remember me?"

There was a fraction of second pause, "I'm your best friend…," Kyle continued, becoming worried.

"No you're not…," Stan turned his head to the boy.

Kyle felt his heart sink.

"You're my super best friend…," Stan smiled, inviting a hug by lifting his arm.

The two embraced for a good minute.

"If you weren't already in the hospital, I'd probably punch you in the face for that," Kyle's voice quivered.

After initial greetings, well wishes, and idle banter Sharon and Randy invited Sheila down to the cafeteria for a coffee after the long drive leaving the two boys alone.

"I'm so glad you're okay, dude… I've been worried sick about you."

"Thanks…," he rasped through a dry cough, "For caring about me."

"Are you okay?" Kyle asked, referring to the painful sounding cough.

"Yeah… I just had that thing down my throat for a long time and it's really sore…"

"I bet…"

There was a momentary pause, "We don't have to talk much if it hurts you to talk."

"No…," Stan insisted, "I'll be okay."

"Alright…," Kyle attempted to make conversation, "I like your orange casts."

"Ha!" Stan rasped, "Don't make fun of me… I didn't get to choose the color of them"

"I'm not! I really do like the color!" Kyle laughed.

"So what's with that tube in your nose…?" Kyle continued.

"…"

"Stan?"

"Sorry… What?"

"The tube in your nose, what's it for?"

"Sorry…," Stan apologized again, "I'm a little out of it."

"That's okay!" Kyle quickly reassured by patting him on the shoulder, "I understand completely."

"It's a – uh – it's called a Nasgast – an Nasotr – Nasog – I don't know… It's a tube they used to feed me while I had that other tube down my throat…"

"Why is it still in? You're off the other machine?"

"I don't know… They wanted to keep it in until tomorrow or something just in case… Or something."

Kyle felt really bad for him.

"How the heck does something going through your nose feed you?"

"It – it goes all the way into my stomach – I think."

Kyle cringed.

"How do they feed you through it? Do they like blend up a cheeseburger and send it through the tube?"

Stan laughed lightly, "No, they just attach a bag of some liquid that has vitamins and stuff – I think that's what the doctor said."

Kyle nodded in understanding.

He reached into his small bag and pulled out the card the class had made.

"Our class made you this," he handed the green construction paper card to Stan.

There were various designs and pictures colored on it and in it along with messages and signatures from his classmates.

"Everyone in class signed it," he watched Stan read over messages in the card.

"Even Cartman…?" He said aloud reading his note: _Don't die or Kyle will kill me – Eric_, "I'm not even going to ask," Stan continued.

They both laughed.

"I brought you something else too," Kyle handed Stan the small bag.

Stan reached inside and pulled the gift out.

It was a medium sized stuffed puppy.

He had light brown paws with a blackish grey pelt and a black spot around its eye.

Stan sat it on his lap.

"You bought me a stuffed dog…?"

"He's actually supposed to be a blue heeler puppy and I thought he could maybe keep you company or something," Kyle looked at his feet, embarrassed in lou of Stan's response.

"I like him…," Stan smiled and pretended to pet the puppy.

"I thought you would."

"What's his name…?"

"His name…?" Kyle stuttered, "Uh…"

"What do you think about Rowdy…? He looks like he wants to play…"

"That sounds like a good name, dude," Kyle smiled.

After a few moments of silence, Kyle spoke again, "When do you think you'll get out of here?"

"I don't know, dude... It sounds like it will probably still be a while…," Stan looked sad.

"It'll be okay, Stan," he put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "If they're keeping you here it's just because they think they can help you feel even better."

"I know…"

Stan reached over to the moveable table next to his bed and grabbed the TV remote.

"I can't do a whole lot right now but do you maybe want to watch some cartoons with me?"

"Sure!" Kyle pulled up a chair next to the bed.

About 15 minutes later, Kyle was enthralled in the show they were watching.

"Did you see that?!" He turned to Stan.

Stan's head was slouched to the side and his eyes were closed.

He stirred.

"Huh…? Oh, sorry, dude; this medicine is making me pretty tired…"

"Don't apologize, Stan. You should probably be sleeping anyway."

Right after he said that, the adults walked back in.

"It's probably time for us to get going, Kyle," Sheila motioned for her son, "We need to get back to town before it gets too late."

"Can't we just stay a little longer?" Kyle tried to buy more time.

"I think Stanley's had enough excitement for today," she looked at the exhausted boy, "We should let him rest."

"Alright," he turned back to Stan, "I'll come back and see you again while you're here. I promise," he hugged him again.

"You have your phone, right?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah… I think my mom does – maybe."

"Well in that case, I'll make sure to text you or call you every day or you can text me if you're bored or something," they both smiled at each other.

"Alright… See you, dude…"

"Feel better soon!"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: Grammar and spelling mistakes are intentionally reflective of text speak.

Not long after they had left Denver on that Monday night, Kyle's phone vibrated.

**Stan: **_My mom did have my phone. _

**Kyle: **_Cool! I thought you were tired?_

A few minutes passed.

**Stan: **_I am but I just thought rowdy and I would say hi_

**Kyle: **_Hi :D_

There was another fairly long pause.

**Stan: **_Srry it's taking me so long to reply I'm txting with my left hand :( _

**Kyle: **_Lol, that's ok_

**Stan: **_U guys bk yet?_

**Kyle: **_We only left like 30 mins ago…_

**Stan: **_Srry_

**Kyle: **_Haha. It's ok but you should probably get some sleep_

**Stan: **_Ok mom xP_

Over the course of the next week, Stan and Kyle texted each other on a daily basis.

* * *

Tuesday (Evening)

**Kyle: **_Hey dude! How are you feeling?_

**Stan: **_Bad_

**Kyle: **_=( why's that (outside the obvious I guess)?_

**Stan: **_I got that tube out of my nose today and got to eat like a quarter of a sandwich _

**Kyle: **_? Isn't that good?_

**Stan: **_Ya but it made me rly sick. I've thrown up like 5 times_

**Kyle: **_Jesus, dude_

**Stan: **_They say if I can't keep something down soon they'll have to put it back in ='(_

**Kyle: **_That sucks, man. Everything will be ok. I bet it was just that what you were eating didn't taste good. You need like a double chocolate sundae or something!_

**Stan: **_Ice cream does sound a lot better than a hospital ham sandwich _

* * *

Wednesday (Afternoon)

**Stan: **_I actually ate something today!_

**Kyle:**_ Nice! What did you have?_

**Stan: **_I had some soup and I managed to talk the nurses into bringing me a chocolate milkshake _

**Kyle: **_Sweet talking the ladies huh? Hahaha_

**Stan: **_They're not all ladies and maybe they just feel bad for a sweet little boy lol_

**Kyle: **_xD_

**Stan: **_They say if I'm doing better tomorrow again they might move me out of ICU to the main floor_

**Kyle: **_What's the difference?_

**Stan: **_ICU is like for rly sick people I think and the main floor is for people who r a little better. Less nurses and doctors and machines and stuff_

**Kyle:**_ Awesome! I hope they move you._

**Stan: **_Me 2 _

**Kyle: **_That means you're getting better! :)_

* * *

Thursday (Evening)

**Stan: **_I got a new room! 472_

**Kyle: **_Sweet! How do you like it?_

**Stan: **_It feels a little more comfortable than the other one less machines and it's more colorful. It makes me less nervous_

**Kyle: **_I bet that makes you feel better already!_

**Stan: **_Ya. When they moved me here I got to see some of this place. It doesn't rly look like a hospital at all_

**Kyle: **_I know, right?_

**Stan: **_It's pretty cool_

**Kyle: **_Coming from the guy who absolutely hates hospitals?_

**Stan: **_I guess. Either that or I've been 2 messed up on meds to care yet_

**Kyle: **_Lol_

* * *

Friday (Morning)

**Stan: **_Kyle can we talk when you have time?_

Regardless of being in school, Kyle pulled out his phone and responded almost immediately.

**Kyle: **_Sure, what's up dude? Is something wrong?_

**Stan: **_Are u busy right now?_

**Kyle: **_It's 11am on a Friday, do you think Garrison has us busy?_

**Stan: **_If you're in school I can just talk to u later_

**Kyle: **_Srsly dude it's ok. What's wrong?_

**Stan: **_I just wanted to talk to someone. I haven't gotten to do anything or c anyone else since u left. I'm kinda lonely _

**Kyle: **_I'm sorry dude. I wish I could be there with you :( I feel bad now_

**Stan: **_Don't feel bad it's not your fault I know that_

**Kyle: **_It's almost noon here, I'll call you over lunch?_

**Stan: **_That'd be cool :)_

* * *

Saturday (Afternoon)

**Kyle: **_Hey dude, what's up?_

Stan did not reply until later that evening.

**Stan: **_Hey srry I didn't text back earlier. It's been a hard day..._

**Kyle: **_Why is that?_

**Stan: **_They made me start something called physical therapy today_

**Kyle: **_What's that?_

**Stan: **_It's just something like where you do little things to strengthen muscles and stuff after you've been hurt_

**Kyle: **_Like exercise? _

**Stan: **_Kinda but it's not like regular exercise. Since I haven't been up in like almost 3 weeks or something and with all the bruising and stuff it was rly hard_

**Kyle: **_To…?_

**Stan: **_To just stand up dude or to walk_

**Kyle: **_Geez, you're gonna be alright tho, right?_

He was sufficiently worried.

**Stan: **_I think so. It'll just take a while I guess_

**Kyle: **_Whew! _

**Stan: **_Ya. U know how hard it is to try to walk with crutches when u can barely stand and your arm is hurt 2?_

**Kyle: **_No?_

**Stan: **_It's almost impossible… They said I'll probably have to use a wheelchair for a while =(_

Kyle felt that ominous pit return to his stomach for the first time since Stan woke up.

**Kyle: **_Dude…_

**Stan: **_This is gonna suck so hard I feel like I want to cry_

**Kyle: **_It'll be ok, Stan. _

He could think of no other way to reply.

* * *

Sunday (Afternoon)

**Kyle: **_Guess what, Stan._

**Stan: **_This is a bad dream and I am going to wake up soon?_

**Kyle: **_I'm going to make you feel better!_

Kyle responded with a heavy heart.

**Stan: **_I wish I could feel better…_

**Kyle: **_I talked my mom into coming back down to Denver tomorrow!_

**Stan: **_Really?_

**Kyle: **_Ya!_

**Stan: **_That's cool dude._

**Kyle: **_We should be there around 3_

**Stan: **_K_


	6. Chapter 6

"Mom, I'm done! Hurry, we're gonna be late!" Kyle beckoned toward the door.

He had made a deal with his mom the night before in order to get Denver… He would clean the entire living room top to bottom: clean the windows, dust the furniture, vacuum the floor, the whole nine yards. In turn, she would call him in to school and drive him up to see Stan.

It was his idea; naturally Sheila accepted, she was going to take him anyway.

She did not really expect Kyle to hold up his end of the deal, at least not until later in the day.

"You're done already?" Sheila asked, surprised.

"Yeah! I got up early."

He'd been up since 5 AM.

Kyle was so busy cleaning he skipped breakfast entirely.

"Alright, Kyle. I'll get my keys."

The two set off shortly thereafter.

They drove straight through, deciding to skip lunch and eat a nice dinner before they headed back.

They arrived at the hospital right around the time Kyle told Stan they would be there.

Stan's new room was easy to find. It was in the main wing of the hospital. There were a lot more people and a lot more noise.

His door was cracked open.

Kyle gave a quick knock.

"Yeah?" He heard Stan's voice through the door and let himself in.

Stan was lying in his bed with the covers back watching TV. This room was a lot more colorful and had significantly less machines sitting around.

He still had bandages around his head and chest in addition to his two bright-orange casts. He was no longer hooked up to any machines other than the IV pump that sill had one bag with a single line running to his hand. The stuffed animal Kyle had given him a week ago was lying on the bed next to him.

"Hey, dude!" Kyle walked up to the bed.

"Hey!" Stan extended his arm for a hug.

"How are you feeling?" Kyle asked as he pulled away, Sheila and Sharon were talking on the other side of the room.

"A little better…," Stan smiled.

"It looks like you and Rowdy are feeling better!" Kyle chuckled.

Stan's face turned red as he realized the stuffed animal was lying next to him on the bed.

He picked it up and sat it on a nearby table, "Sorry…"

"It's okay, dude. I won't tell anyone."

They both laughed this time.

"So… How's the whole walking thing going?" Kyle asked rather timidly.

Stan sighed, "I'm gonna have to use a wheelchair until I get these casts off… My legs are weak but it's mainly because it's really hard to use crutches with my arm being hurt too… You know?'

"That makes sense… At least you'll be okay…"

"Yeah… It's gonna suck but you're going to help me when I get out of here, right?"

"Of course!" Kyle responded instantly, "Did you even have to ask?"

"Not really," Stan admitted.

"Hey," Stan spoke after a few minutes of silence, "They have a really cool game room down the hall, do you want to play some games before I have to eat dinner?"

Kyle's stomach growled at the mention of food, he felt a little weak but tried to shrug it off.

"Heck yeah I do!"

Stan hit the call button, a nurse promptly entered.

"What do you need, Stanley?"

"I was wondering if maybe I could take Kyle down to the game room for a little while, please…?"

"You know it's getting close to dinner, right?"

"Yeah but we won't stay down there for long, I just want to show it to him. Please?" He tried to make a cute face.

"Alright…," she gave in, "But only for a little while."

"Sweet!" Both boys answered in unison.

She brought over a wheelchair and helped him into it before grabbing hold of the IV pump.

"It's down this way," she pushed him about halfway down the hall to the room, Kyle followed.

The game room was filled with shelves of toys and board games, books and movies, a foosball table, large television surrounded by a game system on one side and a stack of disc cases on the other. Various chairs were scattered about the room.

"Whoa! This place is cool!" Kyle said, looking around.

"I told you," Stan beamed.

She moved him up to the middle of the room when a pager started beeping.

She plucked it off her waist and read the message.

"I need to go, boys!" It was obviously an emergency, "Someone else will be in to watch you kids shortly," she ran out of the room.

"Help me out of this thing," Stan extended his hand to Kyle.

"What?"

"Help me out of this wheelchair."

Kyle carefully pulled him up and sat him down on a nearby beanbag chair.

"What games do we got?" He asked Kyle.

He walked over to the videogames and picked one up.

"We have a football game… A driving game…,"the case shook with his hand as he tried to read the blurring letters, he felt sick.

"Stan…," he turned to him.

He could see Kyle's face was pale-white, "Kyle?" he asked, confused.

"I don't feel too good…," Kyle's knees buckled and he fell to the floor.

'Holy crap!" Stan pulled himself off the chair to his best friend's side.

"Kyle?!" He asked frantically.

He was unresponsive.

"Help!" Stan yelled as loud as he could.


	7. Chapter 7

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Kyle's ears began to acknowledge his surroundings.

"Ugh…," he moaned weakly as he cracked his eyes open and the blurry image of the room

sharpened.

"Kyle!" He was greeted by a cheerful voice almost immediately.

Stan had managed to push himself up from a nearby chair and, supporting himself on Kyle's bed, threw his arms around his buddy.

"Stan...?" Kyle winced at the scraping feeling on his side from Stan's cast as he returned a light embrace.

"What happened…?" Kyle observed a nearby monitor flashing his vital signs and a single IV line inserted into his right hand strung up to a bag of clear fluid hanging nearby.

"We were in that game room upstairs and I was just getting ready to kick your butt in a racing game one-handed!" Stan backed away from the bed and plopped back down in the chair before continuing, "I guess your blood sugar got too low and you passed out… I yelled for help as loud as I could and two nurses came running in. I told them that I didn't know what was wrong with you but that you were diabetic - it was the only thing I could think of. One of the nurses ran out and came back in with some shot they stabbed in your leg - I think she said it was glue-ka-gone or something and they brought you down to the ER… That was a few hours ago...I was really scared… I'm glad you're okay," he smiled as his super best friend.

_I didn't eat anything today… What the heck was I thinking?! Man… That was stupid…, _Kyle's train-of-thought was interrupted by a sudden lurching in his stomach.

"What's wrong, dude?" Stan could sense Kyle's discomfort.

"I think I'm gonna be sick…," he responded as his face paled.

Stan frantically reached for a nearby trashcan and managed to position it close to Kyle just before he leaned off the bedside and threw up into it.

The taste of vomit in his mouth made him shudder.

"Sorry… That medicine hurts my stomach..."

"It's okay. I totally know that feeling as of lately," he chuckled. "Here," Stan picked something up off of the ground, "You dropped this," he handed Kyle a stuffed animal.

"Rowdy…?" Kyle looked surprised.

"Yeah, dude! He makes me feel better so I thought maybe he could make you feel better too…," Stan looked at his feet.

"Thanks," Kyle hugged the stuffed toy to his chest, "He does."

"Kyle! Bubbi! You're okay!" Sheila exasperated as both she and Sharon walked through the door.

She rushed over to the bed and smothered him with a tight hug.

"Hi, mom…," he hugged back.

"I knew we should have gotten lunch!" Sheila commented.

"Sorry…," Kyle felt the need to apologize.

"It's alright, sweetie. You're okay, that's all that matters."

After the initial commotion had died down, Sheila spoke.

"The doctors said that was a pretty severe case of hypoglycemia… It's already pretty late so they want to keep you overnight just to make sure you're alright."

"Gah…," Kyle responded sadly.

"We should probably be getting you back to your room too, Stanley… You need to rest still."

"Alright, mom…" Stan knew there was no sense in arguing.

"Here…" Kyle extended the stuffed animal to Stan.

"You keep him tonight, dude… It looks like you're getting along pretty well."

Kyle smiled, "Thanks, dude."

"Just remember that he's my puppy. You gave him to me."

Kyle laughed, "See you in the morning before I leave?"

"Sure thing. Good night, Kyle."

"Night, Stan."


End file.
